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It has been a while since I blabbered about the cotyledons of Claytonia, but I want to let you all in on something I find VERY interesting…… so maybe we should start with a survey, to see what you think. How many cotyledons do you think Claytonia have? Keep in mind, they are dicots.

If you guessed that Claytonia have 2 cotyledons, you’re right… but you’re not the only one that is right. Technically, those of you that guessed Claytonia have only 1 cotyledon are also correct — that’s right, there is in fact a group of dicots with only 1 cotyledon (probably several, but that question exceeds the scope of this blog post). Claytonia Section Claytonia, otherwise known as the tuberous perennials, lack a second cotyledon present in other species of Claytonia (and all of their closest relatives). To me, this is just another reason why you should believe that Claytonia is the whackiest group of plants this side of the Mississippi River. 😉

So who cares, there has been a loss of one of the cotyledons in this group of plants. One time only evolution, and now these plants simply can’t recover that lost cotyledon — I’m over it… right? WRONG! There is something fishy going on here, and it has to do with a certain caudicose perennial I have mentioned before: Claytonia megarhiza (pictured below).

You can see from the second image (the photo immediately above) that Claytonia megarhiza clearly has two cotyledons, not one like the tuberous, perennial Claytonia species I mentioned before. Thus, you’d expect that this species is more closely related to those other Claytonia that have two cotyledons, right? Well…

Above is a preliminary phylogenetic tree that I presented at the Botanical Society of America Meeting this year in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. This tree has been developed from ~500 single nucleotide polymorphisms isolated from the nuclear genome of all of the samples included (using ddRADseq). You can see from the tree that the caudicose perennial C. megarhiza (indicated by [morphologically similar, but anatomically quite different] cartoon carrots ) clearly has a close association with the tuberous, perennial Claytonia, albeit the exact area in the tree where they will stabilize is still yet to be determined. Without question, Claytonia megarhiza is nested somewhere in this clade of otherwise tuberous, perennial Claytonia.

So how did C. megarhiza find itself with 2 cotyledons while all of its closest relatives (including those diverging away from the lot much earlier in evolutionary history) have only 1? If you have the answer… I would love to hear it from ya! From my perspective, it is a question that is ‘to be determined’ but I am hopeful that my dissertation will change things. 😉

First off (technically second, after the eye candy above), I need to announce that my research on Claytonia(Montiaceae) has been recently funded [yay!] by the National Science Foundation. You can see the abstract here for #DEB1502085:

Second (yes, I know, technically third), we should play my favorite game: compare the above eye candy with the below ridiculously beautiful [spring] beauty… SAME? or different. 😉

Now before you answer to yourself, consider that the Claytonia in the above two pictures are considered in the current taxonomy to be the same as the plants in the below picture, all being C. lanceolata [for now]. Check out the variation in those leaves!!! Who cares about the flowers, right? No way…The three photos immediately above correspond respectively with the same three putative taxa [let’s call them operational taxonomic units] in the first three pictures of this blog post. So? SAME or different? Feel free to vote at the bottom, and I welcome any feedback or discussion — I can’t say it all in 140 characters or less.

Third [ok, let’s stop with the sequential nonsense], I took an epic trip across California, Nevada and Oregon during the spring months of 2015 as part of #DEB1502085. While on this trip, I photographed new, mind-boggling [taxonomically speaking], tuberousClaytonia. Almost immediately after that, I took another most epic trip across California, Nevada, Utah, and Colorado (with guest appearances in Arizona and Wyoming) with ‘Los Caryophylleros’. Let’s just say, I can’t wait to get my new morphological and molecular data (RADSeq X 2) up to speed…

Lastly [HA! I win!], I’ll finish this [short] commentary with what has been the most difficult collection of photos I’ve ever had to select from for the purpose of sharing, then I need to finish preparing for presentations at BOTANY and the Caryophyllales meetings…

I’ve been on a bit of a rant lately concerning hybridization in plant species complexes, which recently resulted in my last post suggesting hybridization could be a potential ‘solution’ to the problem of an ever-changing climate. I want to dig a little deeper now and ask the questions — can generalist pollinators have anything to do with the maintenance of a generalized floral form in Claytonia? If so, can this indirectly act as a selective force for increased hybridization among distantly (and closely) related species? If you have seen the ‘face shots’ from a recent ‘Spring Beauty Pageant‘ than you know what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ve even suggested to a friend, because Claytonia grow like weeds where you are from, that you believe there to be little variation in floral form among species in the genus. I’d agree with you, to a certain extent… but then again, maybe there is so much intra-population variation in floral morphology (coloration, petal shape) that we are blind to see the true pattern of differentiation in floral form among closely related taxa. I’ve touched upon the subject of within-population variation of the flowers of one member of the C. “peirsonii” complex from the southern Sierra Nevada, but now I want to expand on this subject with photographs taken within a single population of C. lanceolata sensu lato on the Great Continental Divide in Montana. As you can easily tell from the first picture below, in which all of the white spots are Claytonia flowers, it is not difficult to conduct this sort of ‘experiment’ yourself. In other words, it is easy to get a lot of face-on photographs of Claytonia flowers because they occur in extremely dense populations. This spring, try to see how much your favorite Claytonia varies in its floral form — you may be surprised at what you find! Keep in mind that all of the above pictures are of plants that occur in a single population of C. lanceolata sensu lato on the Great Continental Divide in Montana. As evidenced by the last photograph, even merosity can go haywire from time to time. If I showed you just that last picture, you might even confuse the plants for Lewisia. That is a lot of variation! Are these hybrid plants of C. lanceolata (which has retuse petal apices) crossed with another species in the area with entire petals? Good question! Let me get back to you on that one…

All I know is that multiple Claytonia species can occur in sympatry, and intermediate forms can be found in those areas. This is especially true of the annual species of Claytonia. I haven’t observed putative hybrids among the annuals (i.e., the miner’s lettuces) and tuberous perennials (i.e., C. lanceolata species complex), although I have observed them sharing pollinators in southern California. Pictured below are soft-wing flower beetles (Melyridae) visiting both C. rubra (section Limnia, first picture below) and C. “peirsonii“ (section Claytonia, second picture below) at the same location on the same day in the southern Sierra Nevada, California. You might remember from one of my very first posts: these pollen eaters are quite effective pollinators.

Too many questions for a single dissertation to address, but I’ll see what I can do! 😉

Hey, all — I wanted to share a short post with you, some links that detail my activities in the field over the last two weeks in Idaho and Montana. I’ve been on the hunt for Claytonia, Silene, Boechera and Androsace in alpine areas across these two states, including my new favorite mountain range, the Sawtooth Range (pictures above). At the end of this trip in Idaho and Montana I got my first ever glimpse of the alpine Claytonia megarhiza (pictures below) — I’m beginning to think I should have selected that species for a more thorough investigation… I suppose there is life after dissertation, so maybe this can be my next problem child. 😉

My collaborator, Ingrid Jordon-Thaden, and I have been to some pretty spectacular places (see links below), but it is only going to get better (I think) when we head north to the Yukon (Canada) following the 2014 Botany Conference. I look forward to keeping you all in the loop!

Above, two members of the genus Claytonia from different Sections — C. “serpenticola” (an undescribed species in Section Claytonia) on the left, and C. rubra (Section Limnia) on the right. The two occur in close sympatry in the Lassic Mountain Wilderness, practically high-fiving their cauline leaves. This was a highly productive trip to the north, but before I get to that…

I want to say THANKS to all who supported my recent fundraising endeavor with Dr. Ingrid Jordon-Thaden on Experiment.com — we are going to be able to do some much needed fieldwork and conduct fundamental biodiversity research with the money you have all helped us to raise! Thanks so very much, and stay tuned for updates (Lab Notes and Blog Posts) on this ‘open access’ alpine research.

OK, back to talking about my recent trip to Oregon and California — I was on the hunt to find locations where multiple Claytonia occur in close sympatry, particularly areas where species may be hybridizing. I am interested in knowing just how well species can maintain their identities in these situations…

I started the trip by meeting up with Larry Crawford for some botanizing in the Sierra Nevada — we found Claytonia sessilifolia (Torrey) Henshaw(pictured above) flowering profusely near Carson Pass in an area that Larry had previously scouted. This plant was featured in the recent Spring Beauty Pageant hosted on my website — it isn’t too late for you to cast a vote for your favorite(s)! In this population it seems like there is only one species present (C. sessilifolia), but this taxon occurs in an interesting habitat (pictured below, with Diana Jolles and Larry Crawford). It also occurs next to some other fantastic spring ephemerals, such as Dicentra uniflora (pictured below) — the hike was well worth it!

Larry Crawford and Diana Jolles enjoying the habitat on Meiss Ridge

Following some rest and recovery at Larry’s house (thanks, Larry and Suzanne!), my colleagues and I continued north to Lassen Volcanic National Park, catching a wonderful view of Mt. Lassen (pictured below) — this was my first time taking in such a beautiful sight. I also have never (knowingly) been this close to a stratovolcano. I can’t say that I was nervous that the mountain might erupt, but it actually hasn’t been long since something like that happened (click here to read more about the geologically recent eruption of Lassen Peak). Unfortunately we didn’t find any Claytonia in this area, but we might have also been a tad on the early side for the area we looked — several feet of snow in some drifts. It has been a bit of a whacky weather year…

Having been thwarted by a lack of Claytonia at Lassen Volcanic National Park and lower elevation sites in Lassen National Forest, I decided to book it northward to Crater Lake National Park in an attempt to catch up with a rapidly fading spring. Many of the areas in California where Claytonia have previously been reported as abundant are looking quite parched — the Spring Beauties are apparently less than pleased about it. At Crater Lake, though, we found C. sessilifolia plants blooming where else but in the parking lot (pictured below)!Snagging a few quick pictures of the cinder cone “Wizard Island” (pictured below) in the middle of Crater Lake was just a bonus of doing fieldwork in the area. 😉

We found some more plants a few miles north of Crater Lake NP on the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest, and I also happened to snap a quick picture of the BEAUTIFUL Mt. Thielsen (pictured below) on my way out of Crater Lake National Park — this is another place I’ve got my eye on visiting. I’ve heard the Claytonia on Mt. Thielsen are quite interesting…

Next was Abbott Butte (west of Crater Lake National Park) — I ABSOLUTELY had to visit that area this year, as it is the type locality for Claytonia obovata Rydberg. Ray Davis chose to sink this taxon into synonymy in the 1960’s — it has been treated as C. lanceolata since that time. Ray mentioned in his 1966 North American Perennial Species of Claytonia that he collected plants answering the original descriptions of C. obovata, C. multicaulis, and C. chrysantha, as well as C. lanceolata at Abbott Butte. Although he didn’t recognize C. obovata, tubers he collected of that taxon from around the type locality that he grew in a ‘common garden’ retained their rounded leaf shape. What did I find at Abbott Butte? Claytonia lanceolata (pictured below, lacking bifid petals), but not any C. obovata — did it not come up this year? I’ve certainly observed this happening before with C. “peirsonii” in southern California… at least Julian (pictured below) found some delicous black morels (Morchella elata-M. angusticeps-M. conica complex). = YUMMY.

Julian enjoys yummy morels…

What do you do when you can’t find a species at its type locality? You write a paper about it — look for Stoughton et al. (in prep.) coming to a Madroño near you. Fortunately, I have seen C. obovata previously with Heath Bartosh at Hull Mountain — this area is also mentioned in the protologue for C. obovata Rydberg. I did find C. obovata with Diana Jolles and Julian Roberts later during our trip near Cory Peak and Mount Eddy on the Shasta-Trinity National Forest in the Klamath Region of California, but I want to tell you first about the next stop on our road trip at the Siskiyou Mountains of southern Oregon — Observation Peak (pictured below) is an area where C. “serpenticola” (pictured below, and at the beginning of this post) is known to occur.

After seeing C. “serpenticola” (pictured above) more or less ‘alone’ in the Siskiyou Mountains of southern Oregon on serpentinite and peridotite, we next saw C. obovata (pictured below) similarly secluded in the Scott Mountains of California near Cory Peak — I now had my search images for a hike that was a major part of the trip. The two species occur in sympatry at Deadfall Lakes just below Mount Eddy, which is where we were headed next. I REALLY want to measure levels of hybridization in this population on Mount Eddy — obvious intermediates exist in the area in seemingly marginal habitats.

What do hybrids between C. obovata and C. “serpenticola” look like? They probably look something like the pictures below — the two species occur in very close proximity in this area…

SUCH A COOL SPOT — I will revisit this area next year when there is hopefully a bit better snow pack (which generally = many happy Claytonia). Who is coming with me?! I’m climbing up to the top again for sure. Claytonia “serpenticola” (pictured below) grows very near to the summit, and the view of Mount Shasta (pictured below) from atop Mount Eddy is SPECTACULAR.

After poking around Mount Eddy with Dana York and Julie Nelson, and a much needed night of rest (Thanks, Dana and Eva!), Diana and Julian headed with me south to the Lassic Mountain Wilderness (Six Rivers National Forest) and Anthony Peak (Mendocino National Forest) to see C. “serpenticola” (pictured below) and C. obovata (pictured below) at additional areas where they occur in allopatry — plants were pretty crispy in northern California, but they were still identifiable!

I am VERY excited to see how things shake out in the molecular phylogeny I am developing for this group… Stay Tuned!!!

I wanted to take this opportunity to give you a brief overview of my dissertation research, hopefully explaining a bit better how my own research relates to the AWESOME project I’m flying for a limited time only on experiment.com in collaboration with Dr. Ingrid Jordon-Thaden — I know you’re interested in supporting a good cause, so check it out! See the project here.

Many of you may think that you have seen Claytonia lanceolata some time during one of your forays out into the field, but have you REALLY seen it, or just something that looks like it?! Where were you when you saw it? If your answer isn’t Sweetwater, Idaho, than I’ve got some news that could make you want to reconsider what you think you saw — it is possible that you’ve been duped by a lance-leaved imposter!!! Don’t worry, you’re not the only one…

Above is an illustration of Claytonia lanceolata from the original description published in the Flora Americae Septentrionalis (Pursh 1814). The illustration is putatively drawn from the type material collected by M. Lewis, although one cannot be entirely sure given how poorly Claytonia seem to make the transition from live plants in the ground to becoming flattened museum specimens — their succulence does not do them any favors in terms of preserving diagnostic morphological characteristics.

Did your plants look like the one in the above illustration from the original description? What about the plants below photographed in the Klamath Region of northern California, last year, growing very near to North Trinity Mountain — did your plants look like these? As far as I can tell, this is the REAL Claytonia lanceolata,or at least something VERY closely related, the best proxy I’ve got (for now) for C. lanceolata sensu stricto.

I mention these might be only very near C. lanceolata sensu stricto because these plants have entire petals — C. lanceolata is described as having bifid petals, probably more similar to something like what you see on the flowers of C. sibirica. The basal leaves are also lacking in the plants pictured above from northern California (only observed to be associated with non-flowering individuals in the population), but the sessile, triple-ribbed, ovate cauline leaf pair and the lax, elongate, solitary inflorescence is a dead ringer for C. lanceolata Pursh. The plot thickens when you step off of the granite and onto ultramafic substrates…

Wait a second — is that a second raceme I see? Lance-linear cauline leaves with a single vein? And are those leaves ALTERNATE?! Surely this is not the same as C. lanceolata sensu stricto — this is one of many lance-leaved imposters masquerading as C. lanceolata Pursh. For better or for worse, the Operational Taxonomic Unit (OTU) above is treated as C. lanceolata in the recent monograph for Claytonia (Miller and Chambers 2006) as well as in current treatments in the Jepson Manual and the Flora of North America. The following plants photographed in populations from throughout California also are ALL treated as C. lanceolata under the current circumscription by Miller and Chambers (2006):

Whoa — I feel like this kind of variation might not ALL be related to ‘plastic’ responses to a heterogeneous environment… and preliminary molecular data seems to agree thus far.

This is where the Experiment Project is a TREMENDOUS help — It’d be great to get more samples from outside of California… expanding onto more substrates from across the distribution of C. lanceolata sensu lato, which ranges from Canada to Mexico. Idaho, Montana, and Yukon Territory are on this bill…

The REAL kicker? Check out the last line in Pursh’s 1814 description of C. lanceolata below: “In the collection of A. B. Lambert, Esq. I found a specimen collected by Pallas in the eastern parts of Siberia, perfectly agreeing with the present species.”

Did you see my post about going to Siberia? I’m working on a grant for that right now… I’m really eager to see more plants in the field — as I mentioned previously, these plants don’t preserve all that well! 😦

(2) If you haven’t heard already — I am involved with another crowd-sourced fundraising effort in collaboration with a colleague at Bucknell University, Dr. Ingrid Jordon-Thaden. This is the type of fundraiser where EVERY contribution counts! Even if you were to pledge $1, you would help to demonstrate just how much interest there is in research projects like this one.

Hopefully, we’ll be successful in raising funds to conduct field research this summer in Idaho, Montana, and the Yukon Territory (Canada)! Show your support today — you’re NOT CHARGED ANYTHING unless we meet our full fundraising goal!

Ok, so you may remember this recent post, where I asked for interested people to send me pictures of as many flowers as they could photograph…

The premise is simple: How much variation is considered the ‘normal’ or ‘typical’ amount of variation for a species? How much is typical in terms of petal shape, size, and color for individuals in a given population of tuberous perennial Claytonia?! My collaborators and I have noticed quite a bit of variation among populations of different species, but what may be even more interesting is the amount of variation within populations. It might bend your brain the next time you kneel down and take a look around at the tuberous perennial Claytonia blooming in your area (right now!!!)… Better yet, take a picture of 50-100 different flowers from directly facing the flowers (trying to center the gynoecium in the flower as best as possible). Compare all your photos, or send them my way. We’ll get to the bottom of this!

Enter stage left as ‘proof of concept’, a member of the C. “peirsonii” complex from the southern Sierra Nevada — all of the below pictures are from different flowering individuals within a single population, taken on the same day within about 45 minutesNote the visitors above: an ichneumonoid wasp (likely a parasitoid braconid) on the left, and a soft-winged flower beetle (Melyridae) on the right. We saw these same beetles last year, and I’ve also mentioned them in the ‘who’s pollinating Claytonia?‘ series — special thanks to Dr. Emile Fiesler for help with the identifications!The variation is crazy, right?!

Well, almost two weeks later Claytonia umbellata is apparently no longer flowering atop Peavine Peak outside of Reno — more snow has come (see below). These poor little guys are now packing on the pounds (and buds) getting very little exercise while they sit and wait for the warmth of a spring (beauty) day. It will come soon. In fact, I’d wager those little monsters are blooming now, as I’m writing from the comfort of my home in southern California. After all, the photographs below are from April 2nd, 2014, and these plants (desert Claytonia) are über-ephemeral. I’m so cold, I couldn’t possibly think of flowering right now…

Well, this disappointment came AFTER a morning of heartbreak — searching seemingly suitable habitat without finding plants. Do I really have a good idea of what suitable habitat is? Are they even capable of dispersing here? Let’s back up for a second…

Above is a picture of a location where I collected another population of Claytonia umbellata in the Pine Nut Mountains at Minnehaha Canyon on my spring break trip nearly two weeks ago — the talus I know and love, seemingly characteristic of the Desert Southwest Claytonia. Bearing that in mind, when I see a habitat like the one above, or the one pictured below, and I am very near the type locality of Claytonia umbellata in the area of Mt. Davidson Pass (Nevada), I have to stop and take a look, right? WRONG! There aren’t any Claytonia there (above), not even a C. rubra or C. parviflora ssp. viridis to cheer me up for making a bad call — Nothing! But it looks so good, and the rocks are the same as at Minnehaha Canyon… sample size of one strikes again with these guys. Ever heard the phrase, to each his own? Well, I’m beginning to think these Claytonia take that to the extreme. They are not very good at getting around (dispersal), or they have very picky palettes… or both.

We have just GOT to find some flowering Claytonia, I promised Jeff and Jane! The Doyles joined me for this trip (and to give a seminar at RSABG later), flying all the way out from New York. The Doyles have A LOT of experience with eastern Claytonia, but this western stuff was pretty new for them. We sat in the car on top of Peavine Peak thinking (and not eating) — what were we going to do? That’s it! I know another place we can try, but its further north…

Pictured above, a talus slope of volcanic rocks in the Pah Rah Range near Pyramid Lake, Nevada. Oh no! The sun will be setting in a few hours! We can try to climb that slide and run the risk of not finding any plants, or we can try to race up the canyon to get to a known locality before dark sets in… Jeff and Jane agree, it’ll be worth giving this hillside a good look over before we continue up the canyon.

And thank goodness we did — this area of talus was rich with numerous plants of Claytonia umbellata! We found a new locality for Claytonia umbellata, approximately one mile away from another known locality in the Pah Rah Range AND it was the large-leaved plants, like those seen in the Pine Nut Mountains at Minnehaha Canyon. Compare those to the plants from Peavine Peak (top of page), which happen to grow on different volcanic rocks!

Déjà vu — a feeling of having already experienced the present situation, independent of whether you have or have not experienced the situation or something like it… No idea what I’m talking about? See my “Claytonia rocks!”post — click here for more background information.

I still was unable, though, to fulfill my promise to Jeff and Jane Doyle — we had not yet found flowering Claytonia. There was one more chance to find flowering plants while in Nevada looking for Claytonia umbellata.This was a revisit for me, to a site in the Pine Nut Mountains where I was unable to locate a population on my previous visit. This population is near Bismark Peak, and as far as I can tell, it has not been documented by any herbarium specimen. I found out about the population by scouting CalPhotos for pictures of Claytonia — this population had been photo documented but never vouchered. I want to give a shout out to Larry Crawford, for giving me enough information to find some plants! I was not able to relocate Larry’s ‘secret patch’ of Claytonia umbellata atop Bismark Peak, but the Doyles and I were able to find a new population along the same ridgeline!

Believe it or not, and I’m sure to Larry’s delight, the plants here occur in a really unique habitat — I’m still working on the rock identification (volcanic, or sedimentary?). Crazy thing is, this Claytonia umbellata population consists of only a few plants scattered about in the cracks of the vertically oriented rocks (presumably oriented as such due to frost heaving) — they don’t seem to occur with the other rocks oriented horizontally.

Isn’t that just bizarre! but there were STILL no flowering Claytonia to be found… I was running out of options — a revisit to the population near the Devil’s Punchbowl County Park on Saturday before Jeff and Jane’s departure seemed the most obvious choice. Rather than visiting the Devil’s Backbone (where recent snows may have set plants back from flowering), I decided we should visit a lower elevation site. Would there be flowering Claytonia hanging on at the Devil’s Punchbowl, where I observed plants flowering on February 15th, 2014? (click here to see post, “Yep, it’s Claytonia time…”)

NOPE, it’s not Claytonia time here, at least not really anymore. There were some plants around with buds, but most of the C. lanceolata var. peirsonii here has dispersed its seeds and are beginning to wither back to their underground tubers. We did not find any flowering — I guess the Doyles will have to come back again next year, or meet me somewhere northward in a few more weeks!

We did at least find some flowering Claytonia rubra there, just in the nick of time. It was time to send Jeff and Jane back to New York. Although they may not have gotten to see (much) flowering Claytonia, at least they got to see some flowering California!

Pictured above is an emerging Claytonia “yorkii” plant, found growingin the southern Sierra Nevada at Cross Mountain (Jawbone Canyon) in Kern County almost two weeks ago.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find any plants flowering on this windswept ridge (all were emerging or in bud), so I tried my best not to disturb the ones I did find as I proceeded to dig up a few tubers. I managed to safely transport a few plants to their new homes at Rancho Santa Ana Botanic Garden (where I am conducting my research). To my surprise (I don’t have a green thumb by any means), the buds continued to develop and the first flowers are just beginning to open!

Now if I can just manage to get a few more species into the greenhouse in the near future, I might be able to try a crossing study or two. What I’m really interested in is whether or not these ‘strongly out-crossing’ tuberous perennials are capable of self-pollinating like many of their close relatives (such as in the Claytonia perfoliata complex).

So why should you care, exactly, whether or not it is Claytonia time?!

Well… you can help me study something really fascinating about Claytonia, that’s why! Send me your pictures so we can get to the bottom of this — How much variation is typical in terms of petal shape, size, and color for a given population of Claytonia?! My collaborators and I have noticed quite a bit of variation among populations of different species, but what may be even more interesting is the amount of variation in petal morphology within populations of a species. It might bend your brain the next time you kneel down and take a look around at the Claytonia blooming in your area. Better yet, take a picture of 50-100 flowers from directly facing the flowers (trying to center the gynoecium in the flower as best as possible), and then compare them (or send them my way). Crazy, right?

This could turn out to be a very interesting experiment indeed 😉

…but only if you can get out into the field, and remember to send me your pictures of Claytonia!!! Eastern or Western species of North America, Northeastern Asian species, it doesn’t matter — show off your Spring Beauties!